Few figures stir up as much controversy in certain circles as Santa Claus. You may find it hard to imagine why this jolly old elf inspires any bad feelings at all, what with his merry dimples and rosy cheeks and his desire to give gifts to children the world over. But among parents of young children there are some who think that Father Christmas is not merely a magical part of a lovely winter holiday, or even a benign figment of our collective imaginations. No, for some he is actually a malevolent figure, evil incarnate, as if “Santa” is really a misspelling of another red-cloaked nefarious character, albeit one with horns and a spiked tail.

Granted, this last view is not all that common. Most parents I know that struggle with the idea of Santa have deeper, more personal reasons for not encouraging their children to believe in this overweight mythical gift-bringer. Some think that Père Noël represents the crass commercialization of what is supposed to be a holiday of peace and joy. Others are at a loss as to how to explain to their children why it seems like Santa skips big parts of the globe, mostly where the people are of a different religion or the kids are poor.

It is true that there are some hard questions to answer about Santa Claus, like why richer kids get better Santa gifts and how reindeer don’t disintegrate in mid-flight given the speed they must travel to reach every household on the same night. I think it is also true that Christmas has become far too commercialized. But none of these are reasons enough for me to abandon our family’s yearly ritual of Christmas Eve mystery.

There is, however, one truly intriguing reason that some parents reject jolly old Saint Nick. As one mom put it to me recently, “I don’t want to lie to my children.” Another parent agreed, saying that if we lie to our kids about Santa, when they come to the age where they reject a belief in Santa Claus as a childish phase, they will also think their parents lied to them about God, or even love—both untouchable and invisible in their own ways. If I lie to my child about one thing, how can they trust me about other things? Will they one day reject belief in God or hope in love as childhood fads, adolescent beliefs that no longer fit in a world of global disasters and broken relationships?

It is an intriguing question.

Our family is one of those who throw themselves full force into the magic of Santa’s highly anticipated visitation. Each year, after receiving my son’s hand-crafted letter, Santa Claus sends us a video email confirming that our Nicolas has in fact been a good boy all year round and may indeed get a present. We leave out snacks for Santa and his reindeer—usually vegetable sticks and low-fat milk in light of Saint Nick’s diet and exercise regime—and only a few crumbs are left on Christmas morning. We’ve heard the shuffling of feet on the roof, we’ve seen deer tracks in the snow, and we once even had to clean up Rudolf’s droppings on the second floor landing. One year Santa snagged his jacket on a stray nail in the living room, leaving behind a thimble-full of red material and a five-year-old satisfied that Mystery truly had visited our home during the night.

My wife and I have worked together to encourage our son’s enjoyment of the season’s magic, even if it meant pushing the evidentiary envelope a tiny bit. True, Santa has never really been careless enough to leave crumbs on a plate, and Rudolf’s bowel movement looked suspiciously like little piles of damp cat food on the breast of the new-fallen snow. So you can imagine how shocking it was for me to consider first the accusation that I was lying to my son—I preferred to think of myself as aiding and abetting, rather than outright lying—and second the idea that my wholesale deception would reduce the credibility of all the beliefs that we hold dear. Simply put, in encouraging a belief in mystery and imagination, am I really creating disbelief and distrust?

It is a question that I thought was worth exploring. So during the last Christmas season I began talking with pre-teens and older children about how they came not to believe that a jolly fat man in a red suit traveled the world on a toy-filled sled pulled by flying prairie animals. Some of them remembered being disappointed—even crushed—when they found their Santa toys in the attic or when their friends at school revealed the parental conspiracy. A significant number of them actually pretended to their parents that they still believed, not wanting to disappoint them or ruin things for their little brothers and sisters. But not one of them felt that their parents were untrustworthy because they “lied.” The thought hadn’t crossed their minds.

As I talked to these young people, I became more at ease with my role as parental myth-maker. The last thing in the world I wanted was for my kids to grow up with an attitude of distrust and disbelief. But as I pondered the results of my informal survey, I was still unsettled by something, a thought that flickered on the edge of my mind’s eye, just out of reach. For some reason I was unsatisfied by my conclusion.

The thought haunted me for days until it finally took full shape as I was watching my son decorate the Christmas tree. I had been worried all this time about lying to my kids, and what those lies would mean for their own faith and trust. But the whole argument, I realized was based on a single premise: There is no such thing as Santa Claus.

But I’m not entirely convinced there isn’t a Santa Claus.

It’s true, my wondering eye has never seen a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer. I’ve never caught the old jelly-bellied man in his trick, smuggling elf-made presents into our house like a peddler opening his pack in the street. I have some doubt there is a single, solitary, bearded North Pole dweller who visits each house in a single evening, dealing coal to some and Hasbro toys to others. But I’m not certain the spirit of St. Nicholas has left this world entirely. He may not look exactly like a Coca Cola commercial, but I’m inclined to believe that there still is a Santa Claus.

Even if I’m wrong, though, I still think the childhood belief in the magic of Christmas is not just not a problem, but is an essentially good thing. We live in a world that focuses so much on the make-up of things—their touch, taste and smell—that I think we forget the real importance of these things. In C.S. Lewis’ The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Eustace meets the soul of a star named Ramandu. Knowing that stars don’t talk, Eustace assures the stranger that “a star is a huge ball of flaming gas.” Ramandu responds by saying, “Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of.”

I encourage my son to believe in Santa Claus because I believe the world is more than just the “is,” more than just the stuff we see. For lovers, love is more than neuro-chemical reactions, a mammalian drive similar to hunger or thirst. For believers, belief is more than a social convention or hopeful traditions. Humans are more than salt water and a few inexpensive carbon-based bits. There is meaning, I believe, in the mysterious make-up of our world. And children are uniquely suited to remind us of that meaning. For children, pretending isn’t lying. It’s just telling the truth in a different way. In this way, I think, Christmas is just like a story that’s mid-way through. That’s why we still feel the magic, even as adults.

So, with all due respect to those who would prefer that Santa hang up his cloak and put the reindeer out to pasture, I will continue to invite him into our home. For some, Santa is an aberration, a disruption of the real meaning of Christmas. But to me, someone who believes deeply in the babe laying in the manger, Santa helps cultivate the imagination that it takes to believe and trust in an adult world where believers and lovers are sometimes hard to find.

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About Brenton Dickieson

“A Pilgrim in Narnia” is a blog project in reading and talking about the work of C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and the worlds they touched. As a "Faith, Fantasy, and Fiction" blog, we cover topics like children’s literature, apologetics and philosophy, myths and mythology, fantasy, theology, cultural critique, art and writing.
This blog includes my thoughts as I read through Lewis and Tolkien and reflect on my own life and culture. In this sense, I am a Pilgrim in Narnia--or Middle Earth, or Fairyland. I am often peeking inside of wardrobes, looking for magic bricks in urban alleys, or rooting through yard sale boxes for old rings. If something here captures your imagination, leave a comment, “like” a post, share with your friends, or sign up to receive Narnian Pilgrim posts in your email box.
Brenton Dickieson is a father, husband, friend, university lecturer, and freelance writer from Prince Edward Island, Canada. You can follow him on Twitter, @BrentonDana.

6 Responses to My Santa Manifesto (Santa: Don’t Read This!)

As well thought-out and expressed idea as I have seen. You are the first person who has expressed this side of things in a way that satisfies me.
My parents opted out of the “conspiracy” on the premise of not wanting to lie to my brother and I. I am glad they did. Christmas is, and always has been, magical partly because of their honesty. We grew up being “in on the conspiracy.” We knew that the presents (which we still get) signed “from Santa,” were lovingly placed beneath the tree while we slept by our earthly father. He was our Santa (complete with a real white beard these days), channeling that spirit, perhaps, and the milk and treats were all the more fun to devise because we knew his tastes. He wouldn’t come if we didn’t sleep, and there was mystery and excitement to spare. I never had the disappointment or sadness of losing that illusion. He is still Santa to me, and always will be unless I have children of my own, and become Santa in my turn.
My parents, I think, did things well, but theirs cannot be the only right way to do it. I admit I smiled at your descriptions of the evidence you’ve created, and I have a book of Tolkien’s letters from Father Christmas to his children. Talk about magical!
I am with you as far as the mystery, magic and true-myth running through the world, and the importance it holds. If I ever have children of my own, I will probably do as my parents did, and let them in on the secret that myth and magic exist in God’s creation beneath all that we see, feel, and think we know. 🙂

Thanks for sharing Jubilare. It sounds like you had a wonderful tradition. Each family does its own thing. I can’t remember exactly how I made the transition from one world to the next. Our 8 year old just finished his letter to Santa.

Brent, Thanks for republishing this article about a good way to believe in Saint Nicholas (aka. Santa Claus). I have for about ten years been making paintings and drawings the purpose of which is to try to help in the recovery of the best in Saint Nicholas’ tradition. You can find the images with a brief statement on most of them at the following link: http://gallawayart.com/gallery/christmas-and-saint-nicholas/.

One of the paintings has Saint Nicholas soaring in the evening sky praying for those below who are trying to find the light of the Christmas season. When you think about it, and depending on your view of the state of the dead and/or the role of the “saints above,” one could respond in all seriousness to a child’s question (Is there a real Saint Nicholas) “Yes, there is. And he still cares very much about children and many other things, including the giving of gifts in the name and Spirit of Christ.” Thanks again for your interesting and encouraging post. Craig